


The Northern King

by PoisonMantis



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff and Angst, I'm Sorry, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Viktor does his best, Yuuri does his best, at least for a bit lmao, but honestly what the hell, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-01-24 06:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonMantis/pseuds/PoisonMantis
Summary: Viktor is not a warmonger. He intends to be the first peaceful king of the Northern Kingdoms since before anyone can remember. War is difficult to avoid when there are no plausible alternatives, even when the enemy's king is the most adorable man Viktor has ever seen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was edited at Sakuracon 2019 so that's fun. It's based on some prompt I found years ago and remembered in my delirious mid-con state.

Viktor Nikiforov, Lord King of the Northern Territories, was not a warmonger. His father had been, and his father before him. Since before historians had begun writing down their names, his kingdom had been feared by monarch and peasant alike. Viktor had grown up learning the art of war, the many ways to force your enemy to concede. But even earlier than that he had been taught to speak softly, to keep himself elegant and composed as the men around him argued, back when his father refused to raise him as a son. 

Viktor's father despised him. He wanted a son to look like him, to have the dark hair and sinister smile of a Northern king. Not the silver hair and graceful looks the young Prince had. So the King never announced his son, the way every king before him had announced children. He hid the boy away, raising him as a niece, telling him his parents had died of disease. And only when Viktor turned 14, when the king began to feel his age, did he bring Viktor into his chambers and tell the boy he would be king someday.

Viktor knew. Courtiers whispered, and many of the teachers he was given would slip up, refer to him as the prince, and be gone the next day. Viktor went through 8 different skating instructors before he was 14, finally ending up with a man that looked like an older version of his father's favorite generals, who arrived the day after his birthday. The man introduced himself as Yakov.

"Now, Prince Viktor, show me your jumps." He said, gesturing to the ice.

Viktor still wasn't used to hearing his name, so he hesitated before leaping to his feet and gliding to the center of the rink. His father had stopped all his old lessons, except these, at his mother's request. His father conceded, but only, Viktor suspected, as a last gift to his sickly mother. He skated a lap around the ice, before leaping into the air and landing steady on one foot.

"Again, that was terrible!" Yakov shouted.

Viktor gritted his teeth and tried again. And again. Not a single jump was up to Yakov's standards. Viktor's coaches had always called him "an angel on ice" or "heavenly," but here this man was, shouting criticism from his bench.

Viktor loved it.

As he skated, his mind wandered, like it always did, to war, and the sheer drama of it all. As far back as he could remember, his teachers had told him that throughout history, a declaration of war was a monarch cutting their hair, which would be sent to the other party. Viktor heard stories of monarchs being sent heavy boxes full of long, silken locks, and realizing they’d angered someone far more peaceful than most, or being handed an envelope with a few bits of hair, barely longer than a fingernail, and prepared for an assault by a warmonger. Some woke up to chopped off braids littering their castle walls, an angry mob of revolutionaries waiting for them outside.

The king's hair was shorter than any other monarch Viktor had ever seen. Viktor's hair reached his knees. It spun around him in a tight braid as he skated, shining silver in the light. When he became the king of the warmongering Northern Kingdoms, he was sure his people expected it to be as short, if not shorter than his aging father's.

He stepped off the ice an hour later, exhausted but satisfied with himself. Yakov clapped him on the back.

"Well done. You are quite good, Lord Prince, but your jumps are sloppy and your legs wobble." Yakov said, leading him to the bench to help him remove his skates.

"Call me Viktor." Viktor said, lifting his foot for Yakov.

The man looked up at him. "Viktor, then. I expect you to continue stretching every day, and I will adjust your meals as necessary. You may go."

Viktor had never been dismissed by anyone but his father before. He reveled in feeling normal for once. "Thank you, sir." He turned and headed back into the castle, legs and lungs burning. 

Viktor learned from Yakov for years, getting better with each lesson. When his beloved mother died, Viktor ran to the rink and skated for hours until Yakov dragged him off and forced him to eat, to sleep. He began to love Yakov more than he had ever loved his father. He talked to Yakov daily, ate with him when his father was angry, and told Yakov everything he was too afraid to tell his father.

When his father fell ill, Viktor began to prepare himself to become king. He was 24, and expected to be his father’s perfect heir. He spent long hours studying court manners, the histories of every province in the country, and most importantly, war. He demanded an hour of skating every day, and with his father ill and indisposed, no one dared argue with the soon to be king.

Viktor's father died in agony after months of illness, sweating and gasping for air. Viktor stood beside him, and when his father reached for him in his final, painful moments, he stepped back. He left the room as soon as the doctors confirmed his father was dead, his thoughts drowning out the wails of his aunts and the mistress his father had somehow kept in his old age. His mind swam with what he needed to do, what he was expected to do. As he had been taught, he drafted a long memorial speech, full of emotions for his father he'd never felt. He delivered it on a beautiful sunny day, to a silent crowd. The castle was draped in black for a month, until the day Viktor was crowned Lord King. 

It all passed in a blur. He did what he was instructed, and the next day he skated for hours, Yakov coaching him through the hardest elements he could think of, and fell into bed without taking off his shoes. Viktor didn't speak for months, not until he sat upon the throne, hearing requests from lords that his advisors would handle for him, and a courtier handed him a letter from the Eastern Kingdoms.

It was another demand to revoke water rights to the lake that formed the border between their kingdoms, a response to his earlier refusal. The rights had been won in a bloody and vicious war long before Viktor's time. Viktor's people depended on that lake for drinking water. Thousands would die if he relented. If he refused, he was sure to start a war.

Viktor set the letter down and stared at the floor for a long time, before calling out. 

"Bring me a knife." 

An advisor rushed forward, holding an ornate knife, curved to aid in cutting hair. The blade was familiar to Viktor; his father had often cursed and grumbled trying to shave off a few more hairs to start another war. Viktor held the short blade to his braid, just above his ear. He could feel the room freeze. 

_ Will this be my first real act as king? Only 4 months on the throne and I’m starting a war!  _ Viktor thought. He felt the eyes of his highest general on him. 

With his next breath, Viktor hacked off his hair and tossed it into the center of the room. "Send that to the Eastern Kingdom as my response." He stood and pushed out the door, rushing to the rink before anyone could speak to him.

Yakov stood, arms crossed, in front of the entrance, watching Viktor struggle to put his skates on. "You've gone to war, just like your father. I thought you said you never would."

“And I told you if you ever spoke of that conversation again I’d send you to be hanged.” Viktor whispered furiously.

"You will fight better than he ever could." Yakov stepped away.

Viktor glared at him and began to skate, stumbling and falling like he hadn't since he was a child. His mind raced, and by the time he stumbled off ice his face was coated in tears.

Yakov wiped the young king’s face with a soft cloth and led him to bed. "Sleep, Viktor. You have much to prepare for tomorrow."

And thus, Viktor was thrown into a war he had no choice but to fight.

The war raged over the better part of a decade. The Eastern Kingdom fought desperately, but Viktor's armies were strong. Eventually, an envoy of the Eastern Kingdom's king and many of his generals arrived at Viktor's castle. He expected the old, wizened king he'd seen speaking to his father, not a man nearly 5 years his junior. The young king had a soft face, dark eyes, and hair cut close to his scalp. Viktor stared at him for longer than necessary as they were announced. He was adorable

"Of the Eastern Kingdoms, King Yuuri and his generals, my lord!" 

Viktor stood to greet them. "Welcome. I trust you were treated with respect?"

The king looked up at Viktor. "We were treated well. We have come to discuss peace."

Viktor nodded. "As I suspected. If I may speak with you alone, King Yuuri?" He stepped down from the raised platform his throne stood on and offered an arm to him. "My study is just this way."

Yuuri glanced back at his generals, who nodded. "Of course, Lord King Nikiforov." He took Viktor's arm. His accent softened the harsh syllables of Viktor’s name. Viktor liked it when the young king said his name.

Viktor lead him through the halls of his castle to his private study. "Are you enjoying the weather? Quite colder than your lands, isn't it?" He asked as he pushed the door open.

"Much colder. I'm happy to be inside." Yuuri sat on the plush couch Viktor gestured to.

"Might I offer you tea?" Viktor lifted the silver teapot.

"I'm alright, thank you." Yuuri said, in a practiced voice Viktor recognized from his years of listening to political enemies sit with his father.

Viktor laughed. "Fearing poison? I don't blame you. My father was quite the vicious man."

Yuuri just nodded, watching Viktor sit opposite him. 

"Now, I'm sure we can reach an agreement. I don't want to fight this war any more than you do, Yuuri. May I call you Yuuri?" Viktor crossed one foot over his knee like he had been taught.

"Of course, as long as I may call you Nikiforov." Yuuri visibly gulped.

"Wonderful. Now, I know the toll our water usage has on your shores, but I cannot refuse my people access to the lake. That lake supplies drinking water for half my population." Viktor leaned forward a bit as he spoke.

"I understand, but the lake shores are holy to us. To destroy them is to anger the gods, and my people demand that the shores be saved. There must be other sources of clean water you can use!" Yuuri seemed passionate about this, at the least.

"If there were any that I knew of, I would have chosen them long before going to war. What can your shores sustain? I'm sure I can supplement the water with other sources, but not replace it entirely." Viktor offered

Yuuri blinked. "You’re..."

"Willing to come to an agreement?" Viktor chuckled. "I'm quite unlike my father, as I'm sure you'll find. There is another lake further west I have been studying. If you were to allow us claim to half the lake, that could cut our use of your sacred lake by more than a third. Would that stop the damage to your shores?" Viktor pushed a sheet of data towards Yuuri. "I have all the data here. If it's not enough, I beg you to assist me in finding another source of drinking water so we may end this terrible war."

Yuuri's eyes were wide. "I... Will have to discuss this with my generals. If you are willing, we can cease the fighting for-"

"Yes. Anything. As long as you are here and deliberating, I assure you I will not attack your land or your men." Viktor interrupted.

Yuuri’s lips twitched up into a smile. "Then if you don't mind leading me and my generals to rooms we may use?"

Viktor stood and bowed, extending his hand. "Of course, Yuuri." He heard the king fight back a giggle before giving his hand to Viktor.

"Thank you, Nikiforov." Yuuri stood.

"Please, call me Viktor." Viktor looked down at the adorable man standing before him.

"Viktor, then." The young king said, smiling. Viktor held back a shudder. Yuuri’s accent turned his name from a harsh thing to be shouted into a nearly  _ sinful _ noise.

"I hope this is the beginning of a wonderful peace between us, Yuuri." Viktor raised Yuuri's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back. 

Yuuri blushed and let Viktor lead him back to his generals. Once he was out of sight, lead down the hall by a courtier, Viktor relaxed.

His heart was pounding. The young king was  _ adorable. _ If his father had been the face of composure, Yuuri was the face of hope.

Viktor really hoped he could end this war so he could get to know this young king a bit better.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war pauses, and Viktor and Chris talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter.

His head ached. His eyes were sore. Every bone in Viktor’s body wanted to collapse into bed, but he had to skate. He leaned his head against the cold walls for a moment before tugging his skates on and sliding out to the center of the ice.

He’d spent hours looking at charts and numbers, all about drinking water. Where he could get more. Where wouldn’t have enough. Where he’d need to fight a war to get to. He never wanted to think about lakes again, but the sweet king Yuuri needed him to think this through. It had been 2 weeks, but Viktor was still in the same position he had been when Yuuri first arrived.

Viktor was skating without thinking. Yakov didn’t say anything, just watching him from a bench. He wasn’t sloppy, but he wasn’t as good as he could be, either. The king slid to a stop by the exit, staring off into space.

“Viktor?” Yakov called, slowly walking over.

“I’m fine.” Viktor responded. He carefully took off his skates, setting them aside before collapsing onto the bench. “I’m tired.”

“I can tell. The other King, Yuuri, was it? King Yuuri wanted to skate as well, I said I had to ask your permission.” Yakov grabbed the skates.

Viktor’s head snapped up. “He what?”

“He wants to skate. He brought his own skates, he seems to know what he’s doing. But it is your ice, Lord King.” Yakov mocked.

Viktor huffed. “Let him skate, but only when I’m in my office. I want to watch him.” He inwardly cringed at that. Watch him? What was he, a maid with a crush on a guard?

“As you wish, Viktor.” Yakov headed into the castle, leaving Viktor breathing out puffs of hot air by the ice.

He stood after a moment, moving, trancelike, to his office. As he passed Yakov, he simply nodded, hoping his old instructor would understand.

When he reached his desk, and the large windows overlooking the ice, he was glad to see Yakov knew what that nod had meant.

Yuuri was stretching on the ice, back to Viktor. As Viktor sunk into his seat, Yuuri pushed forward, gaining speed in a few loops of the ice, before leaping into the air. His skates flashed, and he landed perfectly. Viktor counted three rotations.

_ He’s good. _ Viktor thought. He absently pulled at his sleeves as he watched this young king skate. Yuuri was amazing. Better than Viktor would have expected. Viktor couldn’t see his face at this distance but his body…

Viktor had never been one for the ladies of the court. Time after time duchesses, countesses, and assorted noblewomen had asked him to dance, had offered him gifts. He’d accepted, (he was the king after all, he had to keep up appearances) but he’d never taken them any further than polite friendliness. Perhaps it was his upbringing as a girl. Perhaps the rumors that his father’s neglect had damaged him were true. Whatever the cause, all Viktor knew was that the Captain of the Guard was a major player in the dreams he’d prefer nobody knew about. And, perhaps, a few other circumstances Viktor knew would ruin him if his subjects found out. What else was a lonely man to do when the Captain of the Guard offers him a “night away from his responsibilities?” Christophe was a lovely man either way, Viktor knew he would keep a secret.

This interest in beautiful men was nothing new, but the interest Viktor had in Yuuri’s smile was. He melted every time he caught it in a passing glance. If Yuuri looked him in the eyes and told him to starve his whole kingdom, Viktor would agree as long as Yuuri smiled. He feared the power Yuuri might have over him if his secret were to get out. 

Even if Yuuri knew, Viktor didn’t think he would mind. A life as king was nothing compared to a second under the thumb of that gorgeous man.

Viktor shook himself out of his thoughts. Yuuri was still skating. Perhaps, at this distance, Viktor might be able to hear him? He opened the window a crack, the frigid air making him shiver.

He couldn’t make out any words, but he heard the soft, bright laughter and his heart swelled. He’d never felt this attached to someone before. Personal guards, foreign dignitaries, gardeners, stableboys, he’d had thousands at his side, in his bed. Never once had he felt this near-painful swelling in his chest when they talked. He sat back, watching the dark shape on the ice. Christophe was there, leaning over the barrier, talking. His distinct accent carried up to Viktor’s window, even if his words didn’t. Viktor felt a strange twinge of jealousy that Yuuri could laugh so easily with Christophe, but still seemed to fear Viktor.

He sat up, heading to the door. His mind was made up. He would help this young king, at least get a kiss in before Yuuri headed back to the Eastern Kingdoms, never to return.

“Bring me the Captain of the Guard. Quickly.” Viktor said to one of the guards in the hall. The guard nodded and ran off. 

Viktor sat back down, watching the snow begin to fall as he waited. Chris would know what to do. Chris had always had the better luck with men.

Within minutes, Chris slipped into the room while Viktor rearranged his papers for the 8th time. “Viktor, you wished to see me?” Without looking at his face, Viktor could hear the flirtatious grin.

“I did. Not for the reason you think, keep your pants on.” Viktor smiled back.

“Oh hush, you know I’m spoken for!” Chris lounged on the couch. “And he’s cute, too!”

“Spoken for? Oh do tell.” Viktor flicked a paper scrap at Chris. “You walked into my office with your pants half undone, I hesitate to think this is how a man acts when he is spoken for?”

Chris laughed. “Oh, Viktor, I thought you were calling me up for old time’s sake? One more night before I become a claimed man and you seduce the little king?”

Viktor’s breath stopped for a moment. “Sorry?”

“Oh you aren’t subtle, mon cher. You’re anything but! I saw you staring at him with that look in your eye, Viktor~! You want him the same way you wanted that little gardener last month, and that hot doctor a year ago-” Chris rattled off.

Viktor threw a pillow at him from the other couch. “Hush! He’s different.”

“Oh I’m sure. Bit of danger, hm? Your enemy, in your bed-”

“Chris!”

“Fine, fine. How is he different?” Chris laid down on the couch.

“He’s softer. I don’t want to do things to him like the others.” Viktor caught Chris’ disbelieving glare. “Fine. I don’t want to do as many things to him. I’d rather just… Kiss him. I don’t need him in my bed.” 

“Kiss him, hm? Kiss him... Where?” Chris cackled and dodged the second pillow that flew at him.

“He’s young, Chris!” Viktor crossed his arms.

“He’s no younger than we were, my Lord.” Chris winked at him. “How many excuses are you going to come up with? You know you’re irresistible” 

“He’s a king. He’s the enemy!” Viktor threw his hands up. “This isn’t some fling!”

“The enemy! Hah! You haven’t seen him as the enemy once this entire war.” Chris shook his head. “You’re so focused on your reputation you can’t relax for even a few days?”

“I don’t have a choice and you know it.” Vitkor spat.

“You have as much of a choice as you always have. Were we not a risk?” Chris sat up.

“A risk, but not to this level! Chris, this is entirely different, I can keep an eye on you. I could have stopped you from talking if need be.” Viktor stood up and began to pace the room.

“Ah, but you didn’t. You let me go free, which made me not even want to let out your little secret. I could have ruined you at any time, my Lord.” Chris crossed his arms as he watched Viktor move around the room.

“I didn’t stop you because I knew you were trustworthy. He’s going back to his own land, and by the look of things, he isn’t in charge! Chris, do you have any idea the trouble I, no  _ we _ would be in if he let anything slip? He’s naive! He’s nothing but a figurehead, his generals run everything!” Viktor threw a pillow at the wall.

“And you can change that, mon cher! You forget your position. You are a king unlike your father in every way. You are the only redeeming feature of this damn kingdom. If Yuuri doesn’t see you as a role model king then he’s right to let his generals rule for him.” Chris stood, grabbing Viktor’s shoulders. “If he doesn’t at the least follow your example, mon cher, I’ll be glad to see his generals lead him away. You will show Yuuri how to be a respected king, and anything after that will come on it’s own.” 

Viktor sighed. “Chris…”

Chris kissed his forehead. “You can tell me I always know what to say now.”

“Oh shut up.” Viktor laughed. “I was going to say you’re a good friend you narcissist.” He smacked Chris’ arm. 

“Oh, you’re lovely. Now come eat with me!” Chris tugged Viktor out the door. “I want to hear what you’ve been writing!”

Viktor rolled his eyes. Chris always teased him about writing poems. “Oh, so you can make thinly veiled jokes about them in public and make people think we’re insane?”

“No, I just want to hear more, you think so little of me! I’m hurt, mon cher.” Chris feigned insult, one hand on his chest as he walked backwards in front of Viktor. “I know you keep that notebook on you.”

“Fine, fine. One poem.” Viktor reached into his jacket and pulled his little black notebook from the inner pocket, flipping through the pages for something to read. “How about… This’ll do.”

_ “A ship floats alone in a cold sea _

_ Surrounded by ice and wind _

_ The crew is drowning slowly _

_ The captain climbs their bodies to save himself _

_ The ice is unforgiving _

_ Icebergs like castles content to rule where they sit _

_ And the captain reaches for the sun _

_ A forgiving smile, just out of reach” _

Chris blinked. “Depressing.”

Viktor laughed. “I suppose so.”

“You are the captain, I assume?” Chris reached the doors to the kitchens and pushed them open.

“I don’t know. I don’t write about me, you know this.” Viktor grabbed a loaf of bread and a basket, tossing in fruit and smoked meats.

“But Yuuri is the sun. I know he is, you’re obsessed with his smile.” Chris took a bite of an apple as Viktor raided the cupboards. 

“Am I?” Viktor is glad he’s turned away from Chris- he can mask his voice, but Chris has a talent of reading his emotions.

“You stare at him when he laughs.” Chris pointed out. 

Viktor turned and handed Chris the full basket. “I stare at him often.”

“You’re in love with him.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Lord King Viktor Nikiforov, you are in love with King Yuuri of the Eastern Kingdoms.” Chris taunted.

“Someone will hear.” Viktor said.

“Oh, I suppose I can’t torment you too much, I’ve been chosen by the most perfect baker in the world.” Chris dramatically swooned. “He made me pastries and said i was gorgeous, how could I resist?”

“A baker? Really? I thought you went for scandal and danger, mister I-Seduced-The-Rebel-Leader.” Viktor taunted Chris right back.

“I’m past that now! I’m an old man, Viktor, I want to settle down with a pretty man and raise several hundred dogs.” Chris led them out to the snow-covered gardens and into the unused storage sheds. A small table was set up by the woodstove in the corner- Viktor and Chris often used this shed to escape the eyes of the castle. Of course, in the other corner was a mattress, a pile of rumpled blankets, and a bag of things Viktor refused to ask the origin of.

“I want a dog.” Viktor mused as he sat down. 

Chris bent down to light the stove. “Do you? And why is that?”

“I heard Yuuri has a dog. He mentioned it at dinner a few days ago.” Viktor chose not to mention that he only heard because he placed Yuuri in the exact right spot for his voice to carry up to Viktor’s table.

“Then we’ll get you a dog. And a haircut, you look terrible.” Chris messed with Viktor’s hair. “I’m thinking cutting the sides down, hm? And evening it out, it looks like a child did it.”

Viktor tugged at his hair. It was shoulder length now. “Am I supposed to keep it short..?”

Chris shrugged. “It keeps up appearances. Your people already think you’ve given up on the war. As long as your hair is short, that’s one more favorable sign for you.”

“Fine. I’ll get a haircut.” Viktor hesitated. “Do you think Yuuri would be afraid if I cut my hair?”

“Mon cher, I’ll worry about all of that. You worry about seducing your little king.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That poem was fun to write. I may have used Graenolf videos for inspiration... Bonus points if you can tell me which video! Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor plans for the solstice, and Chris is gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating frequently??? who am i

The castle was busy. The solstice was approaching, and Viktor planned on holding a grand ball. He’d been a child when his father had stopped holding them, but he’d always envied the women of the court’s stories about dancing and drinking all night. His advisors had seemed to agree- it made him look like a much more traditional king, which was useful when your people saw you as an abomination on the throne.

“Lord King, a word?” Chris asked. He stood in the doorway of the ballroom, in full armor.

Viktor looked up from the guest list. “Hm? Ah, of course. Excuse me.” He said to his advisors. They all looked a bit annoyed, but Viktor followed Chris out the door. “What is it?”

“You’re going to have to open the gardens.” Chris leaned against the wall.

“You’re in full armor to tell me that?” Viktor fixed his sleeves. “I was planning to have it open anyway, the roses look wonderful in candlelight, and I remember some duchess or other complimenting the ivy.”

“No, don’t put anything there, just have them open. Don’t even tell people.” Chris grinned.

“And why is that?”

“Because your little King is bad with his alcohol. He’s going to need some fresh air, no? Who better to accompany him than his gracious host?” Chris tapped Viktor’s nose. “Have fun planning your little dance, Viktor, I have to go save my beloved’s town from bandits.”

“Bandits? We don’t have-”

“Shhh, don’t tell! The nobility’s been screaming about bandits in the area when I know full well it’s just the cheating merchants, and why not take the chance to show off to my love? I’ll be back for the ball, Viktor.” Chris winked and headed off, armor glinting. 

Viktor chuckled and returned to the ballroom, running through all the plans he’d already approved. Musicians, decorations, guest lists, food, security, lodgings, everything was planned and ready. He only had another week before he had to dance and talk for an entire night.

He hoped Yuuri liked it. He didn’t know if the little king knew how to dance, but now he knew Yuuri couldn’t hold his alcohol. Gods forgive him if he took advantage of that to spend a little time with his beloved king.

Viktor headed upstairs to the library. He’d been spending more and more time in between the shelves ever since he’d seen Yuuri curled up in an armchair reading. He hadn’t seen him do it again, but every time he walked through the large doors he hoped there would be an adorable man sitting in the plush chairs.

“Viktor! I barely heard you come in.” Yuuri set his book down and stood, bowing.

Viktor got lucky today. “Ah, Yuuri, are you enjoying the library?”

“Very much so. There’s stories in here I haven’t read since I was very young.” Yuuri gestured at the book of fairytales beside him. “It’s nice to not read about water for a while.”

“Isn’t it? Ah, I should ask you, do you know how to dance?” Viktor leaned against a bookshelf.

“N-No. I was never taught.” Yuri’s cheeks flushed. “I heard you’re planning a ball.”

‘I am. We only have a week, but if you’d like, I could arrange for some dnace lessons for you?” Viktor straightened, trying to ignore the effect Yuuri’s blush had on him.

“I would like that. Thank you, Viktor.” Yuuri smiled a bit.

Viktor felt his heart melt. “Of course, Yuuri. I’ll send for you tomorrow to introduce you to your instructor.” He bowed and left the library before he did anything stupid, like kiss the little king.

He raced to Yakov’s rooms, pounding on the door. The old man threw open the door, grumbling. “What?”

“You need to teach Yu- King Yuuri to dance. For the next week.” Viktor said.

“And if I refuse? I despise dancing.” Yakov crossed his arms, the only man with the guts to even imply refusing the King, let alone threaten it.

“You won’t refuse. I’ll skate whatever you want, just teach him to dance.” Viktor pleaded.

Yakov huffed. “Fine, I’ll teach your little king.” He shut the door in Viktor’s relieved face.

Viktor headed off to find something to do with his hands before he was consumed by thoughts of Yuuri. 

 

 

“Mon cher, the tradition needs to change, swap that knife out with a hairdresser. How in the name of the gods did you get this so uneven?” Chris complained. He’d sat himself behind Viktor with a pair of scissors as soon as he returned to the castle.

“I wasn’t exactly thinking of how it looked, Chris. I was more worried about the war I was starting.” Viktor thumbed through a book of eastern fairy tales Yuuri had reccomended.

“You should always be thinking of how you look. Some of us aren’t as flawless as you are and take effort to look good.” Chris hit him over the head. “Stay still!”

“Ow- Fine! Are you admitting you’re not perfect?” Viktor kept his head level.

“I’m admitting I don’t look presentable sometimes. Particularly after spending my nights in my baker’s home.” Chris’ grin was audible. 

“I don’t need to hear details, you can stop there.” Viktor held his book up to continue reading.

“Fine, fine. How is Yuuri doing, then?” Chris snipped away at Viktor’s uneven hair.

“Learning to dance from Yakov, and doing surprisingly well. I heard him joke that Yakov should teach him to skate better.” He didn’t know why he sounded so angry. Viktor flinched as Chris got uncomfortably close to cutting his ear. 

“Move again and your ear will be on the floor, I know what I’m doing.” Chris stabilized Viktor’s head with his hand. “You’re jealous.”

“What?”

“You’re jealous of Yakov.” Chris chuckled. “Teach him yourself. You’re the best skater in the world.”

“I… hadn’t thought of that. I’ll ask him at the ball.” Viktor watched Chris in the mirror he’d set up on his desk.

“You’re sure?” Chris made eye contact.

“Yes?” Viktor tilted his head a bit.

“Alright, I guess.” Chris forced Viktor’s head back. “Now stop moving!”

“Agh- Fine!” Viktor pouted. “It’s your fault.”

Chris glared at him. “Who’s the one in charge of making you look presentable again?”

“You. You know I love you, Chris.” Viktor offered him a smile.

Chris watched him for a moment, then returned the smile. “I know. It’s why I can get away with giving your nice shirts to my love.”

Viktor spluttered. “What??”

“I gave him two of your nice shirts. The two cream ones, you never wear them.” Chris used a damp towel to wipe the hair clippings off Viktor’s neck.

“I wear them!”

“Not enough. He looks good in cream, better than you.” Chris spun Viktor around. “I’m going to marry a man who looks good in  _ cream _ Viktor! A year ago I thought cream was the most disgusting color possible!” He threw his hands into the air. “I ate an entire cake with him! He has pet rodents!”

Viktor brushed his shoulders off. “You hate mice.”

“No, not mice, hamsters. But close enough! Viktor, I am a changed man!” Chris smiled wide and dramatically swooned onto the couch in Viktor’s office.

“So you like cream, arent afraid of rodents and eat cake. Who are you and what did you do with Christophe?” Viktor asked, deadpan.

“Oh hush, you. The point is I love him and I’m going to marry him.” Chris stretched out. “He likes to gossip, too.”

“You would  _ never _ gossip, not Captain Giacometti!” Viktor teased.

“I’m going to shave your head in the night, I swear.” Chris threw a pillow at him. “Is this how you treat your only friend?”

Viktor dodged the pillow, laughing. “I’m happy for you, Chris. He sounds lovely.”

“Oh, he  _ is. _ If it weren’t so soon I’d demand you hire him to bake for the ball.” Chris pulled letters from his pocket. “You want to read the things he calls me?”

“No. I’ll hire him, and send you out to bring him to bake here.” Viktor turned back to his desk to grab the good parchment. “He’ll have to bake in a day, but I don’t care if he doesn’t bake at all.”

Chris gasped. “You will??” He leapt up and crushed Viktor in a hug from behind. “You are the second most wonderful man in all the kingdoms, Viktor! I love you!” He kissed Viktor’s cheek and watched him write.

“His name?” Viktor pushed Chris’ face away so he could write properly.

“Phichit. Need me to spell it?” Chris snatched the pen from Viktor’s hand and wrote his baker’s name.

“You could have just said it.” Viktor pushed him off. “Go get some guards, I’m not sending you alone, you’ll get distracted.”

“Can I take a carriage?” Chris stopped in the doorway.”

“You know what, sure. Don’t stain it.” Viktor teased, finishing up the request. “Here, this all but requires him to come to the castle.”

Chris took the parchment with a grin. “Thank you, Lord King~” He called as he left Viktor’s office.

Viktor shook his head and laughed. Chris had gone from an unstoppable seductive force, a different unmarried (or sometimes married) man in his bed each night, to a lovesick puppy in just over a month. Viktor supposed he had done the same, he was just better at hiding it. 

He leaned back in his chair and watched Chris climb into a carriage through his window, a group of guards on horseback already waiting for him. He was happy to help Chris with his relationship- it was only fair after all Chris was doing for him and Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor holds his party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this took ages. I was going to add something but it never worked out, so here's the chapter! I hope you're enjoying.

Viktor pulled at his collar. “I hate the jacket, I look awful.” He watched Chris walk behind him in the mirror.

Chris shook his head. “You look wonderful, you hate it because it’s not blue.”

“I do not!” Viktor grabbed his favorite blue dress jacket. “I hate it because it’s uneven! It’s got this dumb sleeve-”

Chris smacked his hand. “Put that down. This jacket makes you look lovely. Blue washes you out and makes you look like a corpse.” He winked at Viktor through the mirror. “Pink makes you look delicious.”

“You need to stop describing me like food, I worry for your little baker.” Viktor turned away from the mirror, resigning himself to this pink monstrosity Chris had forced him into. “Will you at least dance once?”

“Phichit won’t be able to leave the kitchens until halfway through, I’ll dance until then.” Chris adjusted his own black jacket. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“What, you wearing the most plain clothing I’ve ever seen you in? I think he’ll adore it.” Viktor patted his hair down and strode to the door. 

“It’s not plain!” Chris followed behind Viktor, adopting the long, purposeful stride of the Captain of the Guard, as opposed to his usual short, fluid steps. “It’s refined.”

“I don’t think he’s seen you in anything but armor.” Viktor stopped at the large doors to the main hall. “Ready?”

“He’s seen me in various states of undress. I’ll announce you.” Chris gave Viktor one last wink and slipped through the doors. 

Viktor took a deep breath. This wasn’t any more intense than appearing in court, he didn’t need to be so nervous. This was a party, after all. A ball held to honor a season.

A ball where Yuuri would see him relaxed and smiling, if he could manage it.

A ball where his entire goal was to spend time with Yuuri.

The doors swung open. Chris was announcing his entrance, and all the nobility in attendance turned to bow.

“Please, stand, this is a party, after all!” Viktor’s voice rang out. For a few tense moments, the crowd was still, but mercifully they returned to their conversations, and the band resumed playing. 

Chris slid up beside Viktor, speaking lowly into his ear. “Well done. Yuuri is over with his generals, as expected. I’ll talk to him first. The little brat, Lord Plisetsky is over there,” Chris gestured at the short nobleman, sulking by the wall. A much taller man stood beside him. “I don’t know who that is, but he seems to be a guard. Go talk him down from a rebellion, I can’t seduce him, he’s barely taller than a child.”

Viktor nodded in response, making his way over to where the young Lord stood. As he walked through the crowd, he spoke quickly to anyone who caught his eye, doing his best to seem less nervous than he was. 

“Viktor! What the hell are you doing?” Lord Plisetsky shouted as soon as Viktor turned to him, earning him a few terrified glances.

“Hush, Yurio. What do you mean, what am I doing?” Viktor offered him a calm smile.

Yurio sneered. “This stupid ball. You hate dancing, and you hate talking to people. What’s going on that you need everyone in one place?”

“Do you think I’m plotting something, little cat? I wanted to start holding parties again.” Viktor took a glass from a passing waiter, offering the drink to Yurio. “Here, drink, have fun for once.”

The tall man beside Yurio nudged him forward. Yurio looked up in anger. “Fine. Fine, I’ll  _ have fun. _ ” The short nobleman snatched the drink from Viktor’s hand. “Now get out of my face.”

“Have a nice night, Lord Plisetsky.” Viktor bowed slightly and swept away, scanning the crowd for Chris. He wasn’t on the dance floor, wasn’t in the crowd of single noblewomen, wasn’t by the tables laden with baked treats.

“Viktor.” Chris’ voice in Viktor’s ear made the king jump.

“Gods, Chris, don’t sneak up on me. What is it?” Viktor began walking to the food tables, knowing Chris would follow.

“Two things. One, why does he speak to you like that?” 

“He’s young, and his family has run the coast for longer than anyone can remember. He’s protected.” Viktor took a tiny pastry from the ornate platters. “Did your baker end up making anything?”

“Yes, the tarts on the end. Second thing, Yuuri is already tipsy.” Chris took one of the fruit tarts he’d pointed out. “I’d recommend taking him some of these tarts, and then leading him to the gardens. His generals will follow, but you should have some time to speak.”

Viktor smiled. “Thank you, Chris.” He set the pastry and a few tarts on a small plate, heading to the corner where Yuuri’s generals were very obviously berating their young king. 

Viktor couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he could hear Yuuri slurring his speech a bit. “King Yuuri! Are you enjoying yourself?”

Yuuri looked over, his face flushed. “Yes, very much so!” His accent was more audible now. “Thank you for inviting me, King Viktor.” He waved off one of the generals who began to speak. 

“Of course, it would be a terrible misstep to not invite such an honored guest. Have you tried the tarts yet? The Captain of my guard found this lovely baker on a trip, and we just  _ had _ to have him work for the castle.” Viktor held out the plate.

Yuuri giggled. The sound went straight to Viktor’s pants. “Thank you, they look wonderful!” He glared at a general who tried to stop him from reaching for the plate. “Apologies, King Viktor, my generals seem to think you’re trying to kill me.

Viktor laughed. “Please, call me Viktor. You look a bit flushed, shall we head to the gardens for some fresh air?”

Yuuri giggled again. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Viktor.” He stepped closer to Viktor’s side.

Viktor offered his arm. “So you don’t get lost.”

Yuuri held back another giggle. “Thank you.”

Viktor led the tipsy man through the crowd, towards the gardens. The path was winding and confusing. Viktor was sure that unless they were followed, the gardens were empty.

He was therefore shocked to hear Chris’ laughter somewhere in the hedges. The gardens were in full bloom, and the hedge maze was covered in roses.

Yuuri hadn’t seemed to notice, admiring the flowers and still clinging to Viktor’s arm. 

“Forgive me, Yuuri, I’ll be right back.” Viktor led the tipsy man to a bench and stormed into the maze to find Chris. He heard quiet talking, and a laugh he didn’t recognize, before he got closer to the center. “Chris?”

Chris swore under his breath. “Hi Viktor!” He leaned around the corner. “You might want to take Yuuri to the other side of the gardens for a few minutes.”

“Your baker?” Viktor crossed his arms.

“Yep. Now shoo, I need to sneak him up to my rooms.” Chris gave Viktor a wink and ducked back behind the hedge.

Viktor sighed and headed back to Yuuri. “Sorry, there was an issue with some of the staff. Why don’t I show you the herb garden, hm? It smells heavenly.” He held out his hand to help Yuuri stand.

Yuuri giggled. “Okay.” He stood, stumbling a bit. “What happened in the maze?”

“Just some idiot staff, it’s nothing.” Viktor lead him to the herb garden. He heard Chris’s awkward laughter in the doorway. 

“King Yuuri!” Yuuri and Viktor both turned to see Yuuri’s generals striding towards them, Chris ducking through the door with a man Viktor assumed was his baker.

“What is it?” Yuuri steadied himself on Viktor’s shoulder.

The generals spoke quickly, speaking a language Viktor didn’t know. He watched Yuuri frown and argue back. His face was still flushed and pink from the alcohol. It struck Viktor that Yuuri looked adorable when he was angry.

“Sorry, Viktor, my generals are a bit overbearing.” Yuuri shot a glare at the group of men before turning his back. “I want to see your herb garden.”

Viktor nodded and led Yuuri the rest of the way to the herb garden. “What was that about?”

“They don’t trust you. They think you’ll kill me.” Yuuri shook his head. “If you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it already.” He let go of Viktor’s arm and stepped closer to the lavender planted along the castle wall. 

Viktor chuckled and watched Yuuri admire the flowers. “I’m glad you trust me. Have you enjoyed my castle?”

“Yes, very much.” His smile returned. “The rooms you offered to us are so much more lavish than the guest rooms we offer.”

Viktor stepped up beside him. “I like to make my guests feel very welcomed. It’s a bad habit of mine.”  _ Although you got so much more than my other guests _ , his mind shouted

“A bad habit? I see that as a very good habit!” Yuuri giggled again.

Viktor watched him move closer to the pristine white roses. “My people see it as a bad one.” 

“Why? You will make powerful friends that way.” Yuuri reached forward, gently stroking the soft white petals.

“They still seem to think I am my father. Any attempt at civility is ridiculed.” Viktor frowned at the dead petals on the floor. He’d sworn it was clean before the ball. “If they fear me, I can never help my kingdom grow, but they barely even respect me.”

Yuuri turned and looked at Viktor. His face was still flushed by the alcohol, but his eyes were clearer now. “Your people will come to see you as a smart and kind king.”

“I hope so.” Viktor kept eye contact, watching as Yuuri began to smile. 

“If you can convince me that you are nothing like your father, I know you will convince your people.” Yuuri sat on a bench. “I expected you to be terrifying.”

“I didn’t expect you to skate.” Viktor stayed standing, leaning against a tree.

Yuuri laughed, flushing a darker pink. “I learned when I was very young. It’s only cold enough near to the border, so with this war…”

“I understand. I would love to skate with you, Yuuri.” Viktor smiled down at him.

“Oh. I would like that.” Yuuri refused to make eye contact, blushing even harder.

Viktor looked up at the lights of the castle. “I should take you back inside, so you may enjoy the rest of your night.”

“I enjoyed talking to you, Viktor.” Yuuri stood with a small smile.

“And I you, Yuuri.” Viktor offered his arm, leading Yuuri back into the party. “Don’t drink too much.”

“No promises.” Yuuri laughed and moved away, towards his generals sulking in the corner.

“That looked promising.” Chris’ voice murmured in Viktor’s ear. 

Viktor jumped, spinning around. “You  _ have _ to stop doing that, Chris. Where’s your little baker?”

“Oh absolutely exhausted. I came down to check on you while he recovers.” Chris grinned.

“Disgusting. It went well.” Viktor grabbed a drink from a passing waiter. “Now get out before your baker comes down naked looking for you.”

Chris winked and headed back towards the service stairway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! A warning- this will get very sad, blame IA (IncandescentAntelope) for that one! Claptrap is not thicc and anyone who says so will feel my wrath.
> 
> By the way, yes, Viktor is wearing his Grand Prix outfit, I couldn't help myself.


End file.
